


The Inbetween

by nmnostalgiadrabbles



Category: S.W.A.T. (2003)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, some good ol fashion angst for ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nmnostalgiadrabbles/pseuds/nmnostalgiadrabbles
Summary: Less than two weeks after the locker-room breakup, Jim stops by Gamble's apartment to talk. They don't do a lot of talking.
Relationships: Brian Gamble/Jim Street
Kudos: 2





	The Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

> it must be a form of self-hate to get invested enough in old obscure media to write for it  
> uhg  
> still on my colin farrell bender  
> unbeta'd, please enjoy <3

“I didn’t come here for that.”

Gamble doesn’t waver. “Yeah. But you want it.” He presses further; Jim feels his back flatten against the door he shouldn’t have closed. He relents.

“Just kiss me.”

Gamble doesn’t have to be told twice. 

It’s been all of a week and a half and they haven’t come to any conclusions or reconciliations, so Jim almost feels guilty for enjoying it so much, for fucking _melting_ into Gamble and opening his mouth obediently like a goddamn starstruck teenager, but seemingly Gamble feels the same way, because he’s grasping at Jim’s hair in fists that are already sweaty and kissing him like he might not get another chance.

Jim tries not to think about that.

Instead, he tears out of his jacket, shoes, and pants and somehow Gamble’s already down to his boxers and, impatient as ever, yanks Jim’s shirt off for him. He runs his hands down Jim’s chest and sides and pulls and pushes him toward the bed so that in one smooth movement, Jim finds himself on his back with Gamble between his legs. He gathers Jim’s wrists in a hand and places them above his head.

“Leave them there,” he says.

For reasons Jim won’t put into words – because that would be acknowledging them – but knows are entirely unhealthy, he does, for a moment, as Gamble works them both out of their shorts, but then brings them down to hold Gamble’s face steady so he can sit forward and kiss him. 

Gamble kisses him back and for a string of incredible moments they’re partners again and this is just another Saturday night. 

It both comforts Jim and makes his chest ache that Gamble remembers how to make him feel good, but they’d been partners for five years and something more for four; he couldn’t forget that easily. It was likely more habit than intention.  


Jim tries to stop thinking and be present; feel Gamble’s slick skin and taught muscles and coarse hair at the base of his skull beneath his fingertips, listen and enjoy the way his breath hitches – but then it’s over. Gamble collapses next to him without a word, with his face toward the window, not Jim, and Jim feels less like he’s just had sex with his best friend and more like he’s been used by a stranger.

They sleep there for a while, till Jim wakes and finds Gamble’s hand and forearm resting on his chest, and Jim can’t help but trace his palm lines with his thumb. Gamble wakes, retracts his hand, and they fuck again, without kissing. 

In the rail yard, Jim lands a top Gamble’s waist and gets a few solid swings in before Gamble’s subdued enough for him to pin him at the shoulders. 

“I loved you,” he cries. Partly over the roar of the trains and partly from emotion. 

“People change.” Gamble says. “You changed.”

It’s over just a few moments later. Gamble is dead and Jim drops to his knees, hunches in on himself and fails to breath properly. He wheezes – or is it a sob, because he is crying, there are tears – and allows himself to grieve before he picks himself up and stumbles back to the rest of the team on the bridge.


End file.
